


Live Again

by Victoryia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, M/M, Paranormal, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 04:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13264179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victoryia/pseuds/Victoryia
Summary: "... Perhaps you will live again, Fareeha Amari."





	1. Funeral

_I must get up. There are people out there, who need me. I can't die yet. It won't end like this._

These thoughts kept repeating themselves over and over in her mind. Pharah worked her eyes open. Her eyelids were heavy with her own blood. Pharah gasped for air and a trail of gore trickled down from her forehead onto her lips and into her mouth. The taste wasn't unknown to her. She experienced things like this, where her head was split open. But she had always survived those experiences, why would this be any different. The only pain she experienced was in her head. She could feel the pressure of the broken building up against her back, she was thrown into it from the force of Junkenstein's rip tire. Her Raptora suit wasn't broken too badly, it should only be the matter of... No.  
Pharah cried out in pain as she tried to lift her head up. Her spine ignited and she laid back down, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

Her spine was broken.

Pharah looked over at her arm from the inside of her helmet and struggled to move it. The arm wouldn't budge. She panicked and tried to move the rest of her limbs. She couldn't feel any of them.

Pharah felt a seeping dread pour into her soul as her eyes focused on a loud explosion off in the distance. No, it wasn't going to end like this, it couldn't. Pharah cried out for The Monk, The Baroness, anyone who was still alive. She got no reply. There was no one to heal her. No one was coming to her rescue. Pharah took a deep breath and tried her hardest to relax.

Whenever she would try to comfort herself her thoughts would only manifest into solid concepts. As time passed, her thoughts turned from a desperate refusal to die into questions. She leaned on justice heavily as a concept, ever since she was a little girl. She always knew that justice would win in the end. The people's cries of outrage and dedicated individuals could turn the world upsidown and give the evildoers what they deserved. Her king was a fair and wise ruler, and Pharah had the pleasure of working closely with him. The stories she had heard of his wisdom and courage were true. She had seen the good people of her village avenged for their years of hardships and rewarded in full. Justice had always come through, but where was justice now?

Pharah turned her head over to her arm, lifelessly and unceremoniously sprawled across the cobblestone streets. Her own blood was beginning to seep into the Raptora suit and drip onto the road. Is this justice? Innocent people dying because of hurt feelings? This can't be justice, justice is fair and wise. This is chaos. Bloodshed just for the sake of bloodshed. There is no reason for this. Its insanity. Where is justice now? Pharah heard an explosion go off in the distance. Tears fell against her face.

_Where is justice now? People are dead, I am dying. The kingdom will fall. My mother died for nothing. I died for nothing._

Pharah clenched her teeth in anger. She could see his face clearly, the face of the man who caused all of this, who killed her mother, who killed McCree, who killed Hanzo, who killed Jack. Who will kill the entire kingdom just to prove himself. A coward, a liar. A thief of life.

**"GO TO HELL JUNKENSTEIN"**

Pharah screamed these words with all her strength, all her might. She didn't stop. Tears washed the blood off her cheeks as she shouted every nasty word she could manage, all aimed at Junkenstein. Her screams mixed with sobs, but she didn't stop.

**"YOU STUPID CUNT. YOU IGNORANT BASTARD. DIE, JUST DIE ALREADY. SELFISH FUCK. SON OF A BITCH, YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED AT BIRTH YOU MISTAKE, YOU WASTE OF AIR. DIE JUNKENSTEIN."**

Her vision grew dim. Her body went cold.

**"YOU SON OF A WHORE. BASTARD CHILD. THE WORLD WOULD BE A BETTER PLACE IF YOU SHOVED A DYNAMITE STICK UP YOUR ASS AND BLEW YOURSELF TO KINGDOM COME. I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON YOUR OWN SPIT AND DIE ON THE FUCKING TOILET, YOU AREN'T DESERVING OF ANYTHING HONORABLE, NOT EVEN YOUR OWN DEATH"**

Pharah knew full well that saying these things wouldn't help anyone, but maybe if she screamed loud enough Junkenstein and his merry band would hear her words. Maybe if she said these things out loud, the universe would serve justice appropriately and give Junkenstein his just desserts. He deserved nothing. He deserved death,  
Pharah's voice grew weaker. Her head swam in darkness. She leaned her head back and choked on some blood. She kept screaming curses, until she gasped her last, and died as another explosion rang out against the silence of the night sky.

-

Footsteps echoed against the ground. They moved slowly but surely. The Summoner's harsh gaze surveyed the area, until they caught something. There, against a broken wall, was the revered body of Fareeha Amari. The Summoner stepped closer, inspecting the corpse. The body wasn't fresh, she must have died about two hours ago. The Summoner knelt before Fareeha and removed the Raptora helmet, revealing the bloodstained face, with a final look of defiance smeared across the lips.

"They always told me you were a fighter, I did not expect this sort of devotion however. What could have been running through your mind?"

The Summoner brought out an old scrap of clothing and wiped it across Fareeha's face.

"... Such a waste, for you to die like this. Perhaps I can put in a good word for you. I do not think that Junkenstein would turn away such a promising young fighter. Perhaps you will live again, Fareeha Amari."

The Summoner stretched out her arms, and slowly moved them together. Visualizing the shape in her mind, the Summoner conjured a flat surface. The surface bobbed up and down in the air, awaiting its purpose. The Summoner lifted Fareeha Amari onto the surface. She looked down at Fareeha and softly cradled her head.

"Do not worry, death is nothing but an illusion."

The Summoner tapped the surface gently and it began its journey, a makeshift funeral march for a dead solider. The Summoner came across a small daisy that had survived in a pile of glass shards. She plucked it from the ground, and laid it across Fareeha's chest. It was the least she could do for such an honorable warrior.  


"... Nothing but an illusion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote an essay about Pharah calling Junkrat a cunt and dying please validate me


	2. Aftermath

Junkenstein’s laugh bounced across the cold stone walls, magnifying his (already deafening) voice. He stood in the middle of the throne room, holding his head with his hands and smiling gleefully. The coat of arms on the walls were tattered and burnt. Bullet holes lined the walls and pieces of furniture were smoking. A chandelier had fallen from the ceiling in front of the throne, where it threatened to burn a hole into the carpet leading to Reinhardt’s seat. Upon the throne, Lord Reinhardt lay dead, his body sprawled across the seat. He still gripped tightly to his trusted hammer, a final act of defiance against the terror of Junkenstein. 

“What did ah tell you, oh Witch of the Wilds, huh? Piece of cake!”

“You died at least twice.”

The Witch of the Wilds looked at Junkenstein and cut her eyes at him, obviously not amused by his attitude. Junkenstein blew her off and hobbled up to the throne, plucking the crown from Reinhardt’s head. 

“Ah, the crown. Seems, a little big… but I know one person who can wear it!”

Junkenstein practically lept over the chandelier and made his way to his monster. The Monster knelt before Junkenstein. Junkenstein gingerly placed the crown on The Monster’s head. As he did so, he noticed one of The Monster’s tufts of hair was on fire. Junkenstein licked his pointer finger and his thumb to put out the flame. The Monster grunted his thanks and Junkenstein giggled. The Witch rolled her eyes and looked over at The Reaper, who was surveying the damage. He snapped a piece of wood under his feet and he sighed, shaking splinters off his boots. 

“Couldn’t your monster save us the trouble of cleaning up this filth? After all, our new _king_ shouldn’t rule in a pile of rubble.”

The Witch smirked a bit at her companion and Junkenstein’s face lit up. 

“Of course! What was ah thinkin’?! **King Jamison Fawkes-Junkenstein** shouldn’t rule the- _his_ \- kingdom loike this! M… Monster! Why don’t you make yerself useful and uh… help me get this chandelier up? Yeah, let’s start with that.”

The Monster and Junkenstein began moving towards the chandelier, Junkenstein muttering to himself and The Monster looking on with a blank expression. The Witch flew over to The Reaper and settled beside him, smiling warmly. With that smile, it almost seemed like she cared for him. 

“Excellent work Reaper, I had no doubt in my mind who would strike the final blow.”

“Like the idiot said, it was a piece of cake.”

The Witch smiled again, but this time her face was twisted. It wasn’t noticeable to anyone with an untrained eye, but The Reaper knew what to look for. He saw the hunger in her eyes as plain as day. The first part of their plan was complete. It would only be a matter of time before The Witch achieved what she wanted, leaping off the back of Junkenstein and his walking corpse. 

“It won’t be long now.”

Before Reaper could say his words of affirmation, a small crystal fluttered into the room. The crystal was very small, about the length of a pinky finger. It’s small diamond shape was compact, streamlined, and perfectly symmetrical. There was no doubt this creation was the work of the Summoner. The Witch walked forwards and pressed the top of the crystal. Out from the tip came a blue light, which morphed into the body of the Summoner. She was standing upright, her hands behind her back and her chin slightly raised in the air. Her posture gave the impression she was a creature of poise and class, which was true. Her surroundings were invisible to the viewers, she had chosen this because it had looked better. Junkenstein looked up from helping his monster hold up one end of the chandelier and took in a sharp breath which sounded like a cry of surprise and a whine mixed together, except more annoying than you would imagine. 

“Summoner!”

Junkrat dropped the chandelier. The Monster was not expecting that, and he caught the end of the chandelier with a grunt. Junkenstein didn’t notice. He was now fixated on the Summoner’s pixelated form. 

“So, what dya got?”

“What do I have? I have surveyed the village. I could not see any survivors, and the ones I did see were dealt with accordingly, just as you have commanded.”

“Excellent! Just how ah drew it up.”

“Just how _I_ drew it up.”

“Ah go ta hell with the grammar lesson.”

“Command received. There is one other thing of note that I would like to inform you of.”

“What is it?”

“I have come across the body of one of your adversaries. Judging from the suit, I believe that I have uncovered the body of Fareeha Amari.”

The whole room filled with a sort of uncomfortable silence. The Amaris were not unknown to this band. Ana Amari was the last defender to go down, managing to take out The Reaper as a final blow. Ana Amari was well revered for her service as a sniper in the king’s military. Everyone had thought she was dead. Well, it wasn’t just an assumption anymore. Fareeha Amari was a dedicated warrior with a fancy suit to match. Fareeha alone almost decimated 15% of the zomnics. They were both dangerous women with a reputation to match. No one was quite sure how to feel. Both Fareeha and Ana were dead. There was nothing to fear. 

“Ah remember, ah killed her with my tire. Shot ‘er roight outta the air!”

“It appears so. I have a certain proposal that should interest everyone here.”

“Please, enlighten us.”

The Summoner nodded respectfully towards The Witch, who’s interest had been peaked. The Witch flew closer to the screen, a thoughtful look on her face. 

“I propose we bring Fareeha Amari back to life.”

The silence in the throne room was deafening. 

“If we bring her back, we will have a leader for our army. She served in the military for many years. If we could manipulate her to our will, she could become a trusted ally. Besides, the Raptora suit was made perfectly for her, why waste such a good costume?”

Junkenstein began to pace. It was something he normally did when he was in thought. He said he thought better when he was moving, but honestly when was he ever not moving? He put his gloved hand against his lips and chewed on the fabric. The rest didn’t even try to think about it, it wasn’t their call. The Summoner waited with baited breath until Junkenstein finally opened his mouth. 

“Shore, gotta have an army ‘n shit don’t I?”

The Summoner relaxed some.

“Excellent decision. I will be awaiting your return at Junkenstein Castle. I hope you will not be keeping us waiting.”

The Summoner waved her hand and the image disappeared. The crystal lingered for a few seconds until it returned to light, breaking apart bit by bit and disappearing into nothingness. 

“Ya hear that my darlin’! We’re gonna have a- ooh, sorry mate.”

The Monster had been holding up the chandelier the entire time. Junkenstein hobbled over and returned to his place beside the Monster, hoisting the chandelier up. The Witch and Reaper looked at each other in silence, wondering how this would interfere with their plans. After all, they had spent a lot of time planning this. 

It would be a waste to have a foolhardy hero make a mess of things.


	3. Growing Pains

> “Mommy, look how high I can jump! I can almost touch the sky!”  
>  “Very good Fareeha, try and catch that cloud, the one that looks like a kitty.”  
>  “That one? I can catch it no problem!”  
>  “You can do it Fareeha! Jump higher, you almost have it!”
> 
> “Mommy, I caught it!”

-  


There was nothing but darkness. An endless void, a limbo of sorts. Pharah felt like she was floating, drifting endlessly in space. It wasn’t like flying in the air. It felt murky and muddy, almost like she was in a gelatin. Pharah had no idea if she could move or not, and she didn’t want to try. She opened her eyes and stared out into the blackness. A dull pounding in her head began and she took in a sharp breath. It felt like her lungs were filling up with ink. Pharah opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She tried to close her mouth, but she couldn’t. More darkness filled her lungs, but it didn’t feel like she was drowning. Was she even breathing, to begin with? It felt like the darkness was seeping up her body, consuming her like a ravished bear. She didn’t even try to stop it.

She floated into the shadows until she was submerged… in something wet. Now Pharah felt like she was floating, suspended in some sort of liquid. She tipped her head back and was met with a bright, golden light. Suddenly, she felt very warm and comforted. The darkness dissipated and the colors around her faded from black, to dark blue, to cerulean. Her lungs expanded with air and she felt herself even out. The light became blinding. Pharah forced her eyes closed, but she could still see the glow through her eyelids. It felt like she was being projected forwards, towards the light. She began to feel something solid underneath her body, and the light began to shine blue.

“Heroes never die.”

Pharah felt herself launch forwards, straight into the light. She gasped in shock and her head hit something solid. The inside of her eyelids shone orange and she groaned, lifting her hand to her head. Her forehead was pulsing now.

“Welcome to life, Fareeha Amari.”

Pharah blinked her eyes open, staring straight into bright blue lights. As her eyes focused she saw that the ethereal l light had become blue circular lights, hanging precariously over her head. There were four bulbs, all being held in place by a circular slab of metal. Pharah looked to her left, and locked eyes with a lovely blonde wearing a wide-brimmed hat. Behind the blonde floated two mechanical wings, orange and yellow lights simulating the shape of feathers. Pharah could see into those blue eyes, and immediately saw a sort of greed masked by a gentle expression. She did not recognize this woman. She turned to her right and stared into another set of eyes, these ones yellow against a blackish brown color. The woman was covered with scales. Two large horns protruded from her high brow. On her right arm, she wore an ornate glove, and her ears were pierced with iron rings. Pharah did not recognize this… creature either.

She looked past the woman out to a large green beast, held together with stitches and purple clothes. Upon his head, he proudly wore the crown of her king, Lord Reinhardt. Pharah knew this creature, Junkenstein’s Monster. Her eyes widened as she shifted to look in front of her, and looked head-on into the wild eyes of Junkenstein himself.

“Nice ta see ya again Fahreehah, I’m sure you’re con-“

**“YOU.”**

Junkenstein lept back from Pharah, his wide eyes full of terror. Pharah was surprised herself. Her voice did not sound like how it did. It was raspy, with a deep bassline accompanying her regular voice. It sounded as if two voices spoke at once, but they both left her mouth. Rolling with it, Pharah laughed at Junkenstein’s posture. He held his arms up to cover his face like Pharah was going to leap from where she was sitting and bite his nose off. He looked like a scared rat.

“AH THOUGHT YOU SAID SHE WOULD BE TAME OR SOME SHIT!”

“Dr. Junkenstein, the possession that has overtaken her will work its course. We could untie her right now, and she wouldn’t do anything to you.”

“ **TRY ME.** ”

“NO, NO FUCK THIS, FUCK YOU.”

Junkenstein flipped Pharah the bird and Pharah growled a bit, sneering at him. She saw Junkenstein’s Monster come up behind Junkenstein and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, muttering something with his underdeveloped vocal cords. Junkenstein straightened himself out and adjusted his lab coat collar, a slight twinge of pink dancing across the tops of his ears.

“Well, all that aside, you work fer me now Farrehha, an’ with that we got some ru-“

“IT'S PRONOUNCED FAREEHA.”

“Who the hell is the fuckin’ boss here! SHUT UP!”

Pharah tried to open her mouth to retort, but she couldn’t. She physically could not open her mouth. She tried to make a sound, but she couldn’t. Junkenstein’s expression changed from pure anger to pure confusion.

“What, no witty retort Fariehah?”

The blonde sighed a bit and rested her hand on Pharah’s forearm. Pharah looked down at the gloved hand in disgust. She tried to move her arm away, but she discovered she was being held down by a large leather band. It looked like someone had to do some modding to get her arm to fit. The bands looked like they were supposed to hold a much bigger figure. Pharah struggled a bit, trying to find some way out.

“Stop moving.”

Suddenly, Pharah’s body froze up. She couldn’t move a single muscle. She tried to move her head to look at the blonde, but she couldn’t even move her neck.

“I tried to tell you, Doctor, Ms. Amari is unable to physically hurt us because I gave the demon within her a set of instructions. She already has the following rules: she is not allowed to harm any of us, she is not allowed to betray us, she is not allowed to go where she is not permitted. It is similar programming I did to The Reaper. Except much more controlled. Anything you tell her to do, she will do it until you tell her to stop. For example, Fareeha, you may speak.”

“Fuck you.”

“Be quiet.”

Fareeha’s jaw clamped shut.

“If you will allow me to demonstrate by releasing her, it will most likely soothe your anxiety Junkenstein.” Pharah strained to look at Junkenstein, who seemed to be lost in thought. After a second in silence, he nodded.

The blonde slowly and carefully removed the straps that held Pharah down.

“Fareeha, you may move.”

Pharah pulled herself up carefully, her feet hanging off the end of the metal slab she was resting on. All her instincts told her to leap up and punch Junkenstein, make a dash for the door, anything! But she physically couldn’t. Junkenstein walked up to Pharah and bent down. Pharah looked up at him with murder in her eyes, trying to communicate how much she truly wanted to kill him at this very moment. Junkenstein didn’t take the hint and poked her face. When Pharah didn’t do anything, he poked her face again, and again, and again. Pharah tipped her head away, unable to do what she really wanted to do.

“Well, ah’ll be damned! Ya genius Witch!”

“Oh please, it is a relatively easy spell, even beginners with enough practice can…”

Pharah tuned out The Witch’s rambling. She stared downwards, burning a hole in the tile. She attempted to open her mouth without any luck. It must be true, she was now at the mercy of Junkenstein.

"What do you have to say Fareeha? You may speak."

Pharah looked up at the horned creature. It seemed like she felt... sorry for her.

"Call me Pharah."

"Pharah... much easier to say. Thanks."


End file.
